Archive of Our Own

The salt-crusted wood of the crate was his world. For a boy of six the world had shrunk to the dimensions of a coffin. Zoro didn't mind. Coffins were for the dead, and he was very much alive.

He had left Shimotsuki Village under a blanket of stars. His goal was singular: to become the world's greatest swordsman. And to do that, he needed to be stronger. He needed to find a new dojo, a new master. He'd heard merchants in the village well talking of a town a few days' sail away, a place with a renowned martial arts school.

It was enough.

He'd stowed away on the first ship leaving the island's harbor, a merchant vessel.

He'd found a crate just big enough to curl into.

He ate the hardtack biscuit he'd stuffed in his shirt. He didn't know how long the journey would take. So he had to be frugal.

Then he simply slept, his dreams filled the crowd cheering his name.

He lost all sense of time. The days bled into one another.

Until the rocking stopped.

The world lurched violently, and Zoro was jolted awake by a bone-jarring crash.
The crate was tipped, slid, and then lifted, swinging precariously through the air.
Then, another crash as the crate was dropped onto a hard, stone surface.
He waited, his small body tense, listening to the footsteps and calls fade into a distant.
When the silence stretched long enough, he was pushed.

The lid wasn't nailed shut, only held by a simple latch from the outside. It took all his six-year-old strength, but he managed to shove it open just enough to wriggle out, blinking in the sudden, harsh light.

He stood on a stone pier, but it was like no pier he had ever seen.

He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

The sky was a cold, hard blue, but the buildings… the buildings were wrong.

They weren't like the ones at his home.

They were constructed of a dark, gleaming stone, with sharp, angular roofs that jutted into the sky like the teeth of a great beast.

Huge, black metal flags hung limply from spires, emblazoned with a strange, swirling design he didn't recognize. The air itself felt different. This wasn't the town near Shimotsuki. This was something else entirely.

Zoro clutched Wado tighter and began to walk.

He passed dockworkers unloading crates similar to his, but their faces were all the same.

Not only in features, but in expression.

Everyone wore uniform. And they all had the number 66 on them.

They looked like a row of dolls.

A deep, unsettling feeling began to pool in Zoro's stomach. This wasn't right.

He spotted a man in a long, black coat walking briskly towards a large, forbidding castle-like structure that dominated the town's skyline. Gathering his courage, Zoro stepped into his path.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice small  "Is there a dojo here? A place where I can train with a sword?"

The man stopped and looked down. His gaze was cold.

He examined Zoro's strange, light-colored cotton clothes, his green hair which was so different from everyone else's, and the sword with the white handle he carried.

He didn't utter a single word. He simply stepped around the boy and continued on his way.

Zoro stared after him, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of confusion and anger.

*This is a really strange place,* Zoro thought, his young mind struggling to process the hostility. *And everyone here is really rude.*

He felt a familiar loneliness creep. He was utterly alone. He had no idea where he was, no money, no food, and no one would even speak to him.

His grand adventure had hit a dead end before it had even begun.

His stomach grew.

How many days had he been in that crate?

He found a relatively clean corner against a warehouse wall, sat down, and wrapped his arms around Wado.

He was tired.
He decided to close his eyes for just a moment, to gather his strength. 
Within seconds, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

************************************************

 Sanji, the third prince of the Vinsmoke family, moved through the stone corridors like a ghost. 
He was six years old, with a shock of blonde hair that covered one eye, a feature that marked him as one of them, yet he felt utterly alien.

This was his only source of entertainment. His siblings would die laughing. They would tease him. It was the most pathetic thing they could imagine.

But for Sanji, it was everything. It was the only place where he felt he had any value. He wasn't strong, he couldn't fight, but in the kitchen, he could make something that could make his mother happy. 

And today, she had done the most wonderful thing she could have imagined: a little bento box filled with tiny, perfect onigiri, each one she tried to shape into a little flower – though they didn't quite resemble one-  It was for her mother.

He clutched the box to his chest as he walked down the corridors towards his mother's room.

His route took him past a seldom-used wing of the castle, a series of storage rooms and servant passages that led to the outer bailey. As he passed a small, barred window, a flash of colour caught his eye. 

He paused, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

Down below, in a dusty courtyard , a small boy was sitting against a wall. He was dressed in strange clothes.

 And his hair… it was a bright, mossy green, sticking up in wild tufts.

He was curled around a long, white object that Sanji, with a start, realized was a sword. 

A child? Another child in Germa? But this one… he wasn't in a soldier's uniform. Was he another experiment? A failure like himself, discarded in the courtyard?

Sanji’s heart hammered against his ribs. The boy was asleep. 
Sanji was drawn by an invisible force. He forgot about the route to his mother's room. 

He had to see him. 

He turned and ran, his soft shoes making no sound as he descended the spiral staircase on the stone floor, and exited through a small, heavy door that opened onto the courtyard.

He approached slowly, like a stray cat approaching an unknown person. From a safe distance, he crouched behind a stack of empty barrels and watched.

The boy’s clothes were thin. He must be freezing. 
The sword in his arms was beautiful. 
Driven by a curiosity he couldn't contain, Sanji crept closer, his eyes fixed on the weapon. 
He had seen his brothers training with swords. He was training too, but he was unsuccessful and lagged far behind his brothers.

But this sword he saw was different from the ones they used; it seemed to have a soul, like it was a part of the sleeping boy. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers inches from the smooth white surface.

In a flash, the boy’s eyes snapped open. They were sharp and held no trace of sleep. His hand shot out and grabbed Sanji’s wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong.

"Don't touch it," he growled, his voice low and serious.

Sanji flinched as if he’d been burned, yanking his hand back. "I'm sorry!" he squeaked, his voice trembling. He scrambled back a step, his heart pounding with terror. He’d broken the rules. He’d touched something that belonged to someone else. His brothers would have hit him for less.

But the green-haired boy didn't hit him. 

He just sat there, looking at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated curiosity. He studied Sanji’s face, his strange clothes, the single visible eyebrow that curled into a spiral. 

He was just as strange to Zoro as Zoro was to him.

They spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping in the silent courtyard.

"Who are you?"

They both stopped, the question hanging in the air between them. 

Zoro was the first to break the silence, but his attention wasn't on Sanji's face anymore. It was on the small, box clutched in the blonde boy's hands. 

Sanji followed the direction of his gaze. He saw the way the other boy’s eyes widened, the almost imperceptible swallow. He looked so small  and so terribly hungry. 

"Are you hungry?" Sanji asked softly, his earlier fear forgotten.

Zoro hesitated for only a second. He nodded, a single, short movement. "Yes."

Sanji looked down at the box. These were for his mother. He had worked so hard on them, wanting them to be perfect. But then he thought of her gentle smile, her soft voice. 

She was always telling him that the greatest joy was in sharing, in making others happy. She would be sad if she knew he had walked past a hungry child just to bring her food.

He walked closer, knelt down in front of Zoro, and opening the box, he revealed onigiris that had been shaped into small flower shapes. 

"Here," Sanji said, holding the box out. "Take these and eat them. They're not very good. I'm sorry."

Zoro had no reason to be proud. He gently laid his sword down, picked up the box with both hands, and immediately stuffed an entire onigiri into his mouth.

It was extraordinary—actually awful, but perfect for Zoro—

Sanji watched, his own eyes wide with anxiety. He waited for the criticism, the grimace, the polite lie like his mother. Instead, he saw pure, unadulterated bliss spread across the other boy's face.

Zoro chewed quickly and swallowed, then looked at Sanji with an expression of genuine awe. "These are delicious," 

Sanji's breath hitched. For a moment, he couldn't speak. 
 He felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a feeling so foreign and wonderful it almost hurt. A slow, hesitant smile started to form on his face, then grew and grew until it was a huge grin that lit up his entire delicate features.

"Really?" he breathed, the word filled with a desperate hope.

Zoro nodded vigorously, already reaching for another onigiri.

He spoke with his mouth full, a complete disregard for manners that would have horrified Master Koshiro. "These are the best things I've ever eaten."

Sanji felt a giddy, overwhelming joy. His food had made someone happy. Not his  mother who loved him unconditionally, but a stranger. 
A real stranger who had no reason to lie. 
He sat down on the cold ground opposite Zoro, hugging his knees to his chest, and just watched him eat.

Zoro, in between bites, looked at the strange boy. He was dressed in funny clothes and had a weird eyebrow, but he had given Zoro his food without hesitation. He had said sorry for something that wasn't his fault. He had a kind face, Zoro decided. A much kinder face than anyone else in this awful place.

"What's your name?" Zoro asked, polishing off the last onigiri.

"Sanji," the boy replied softly. "Vinsmoke Sanji."

Zoro scrunched up his nose. "Vinsmoke? That's a long name. I'm Zoro. Roronoa Zoro."

"It's nice to meet you, Zoro," Sanji said, and he meant it with every fiber of his being.

"Why did you give me your food?" Zoro asked, his directness a product of his simple, straightforward world. "You said it was for someone."

Sanji’s smile faltered for a moment. "It was. For my mother. She's sick."

Zoro’s expression softened. He looked at the empty box, then back at Sanji. He understood sick. His mother had also been ill once. He could barely remember her face.

 "Oh," he said, a little awkwardly. He wasn't good with words. He looked at the white sword by his side. It was the most precious thing he owned. Without hesitation, he picked it up and held it out to Sanji. "Here. You can touch it now."

Sanji’s eyes widened. He looked from Zoro’s serious face to the sword. He reached out a hand, his touch feather-light as he ran his fingers over the smooth, cool scabbard. 

"It's beautiful," Sanji whispered. "Are you a soldier?"

Zoro shook his head, taking the sword back and clutching it to his chest. "No. I'm going to be the world's greatest swordsman."

 Sanji could only stare. No one in Germa spoke of dreams.  A dream was a weakness. 

"That's amazing," Sanji said, his voice full of wonder. "I've never met anyone with a dream before."

Zoro looked at him curiously. "Don't you have a dream?"

The question hung in the air. Sanji looked down at his empty hands, then at the empty box in Zoro's lap.

"Yes," he said, the words coming out stronger than he expected. "I want to be a chef. I want to cook food that can make people as happy as you just looked."

Zoro considered this for a moment. It wasn't a very warrior-like dream. It wasn't about strength or swords or defeating enemies. But this was his dream.

"That's a good dream," Zoro said simply. "You're a really good cook, Sanji."

For the second time that day, Sanji felt that incredible warmth. 
He had a friend. 
For the first time in his life, he had a real friend who didn't mock him, who didn't hurt him, who actually liked the one thing he was good at. He beamed. "Thank you, Zoro."

"Okay," said Zoro, leaning against the cold wall, a small smile on his lips. "Tell me how you made them. They were really delicious."

And Sanji, his heart overflowing with excitement, began to speak. He told him the secret his mother had told him: the most important ingredient in any dish is the love you put into it. Zoro listened, though he didn't understand half of what he said.

It was starting to get dark. Zoro tried to hide it, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, but Sanji noticed.

"You're cold," Sanji stated, not as a question, but as an laced with concern.

Zoro shrugged, a jerky, uncontrolled movement. "'M fine."

But Sanji was already on his feet, his mind racing. He couldn't bring this boy to his room—his brothers looking for any excuse to torment him.— But he knew every corner. While fleeing from his siblings, he had discovered many places where he could hide.

"Come with me," Sanji whispered, extending a hand.

Zoro looked at the offered hand, He didn't take it—he wasn't a child who needed holding— but he pushed himself to his feet, gripping his sword, and nodded.

Sanji moved like a shadow, Zoro followed, his senses on high alert. They slipped through a small, iron-banded door that Sanji had to push with both hands to open, and entered a narrow, dusty corridor that smelled of age and disuse. Servant passages, Sanji mouthed silently. No one comes here.

They climbed winding staircases, ducked under low archways, and finally emerged into a small, circular room tucked away in what must have been one of the castle's forgotten towers. It was sparse but it was warm, sheltered from the biting wind.

"You can stay here," Sanji said, his voice normal now that they were hidden. He crossed to the blankets and began arranging them into a crude bed. "They won't see you here. No one remembers this room exists. I discovered this place a long time ago."

He paused, then added with a solemnity beyond his years, "I'll bring you food too. Every day. I promise."

Zoro stood in the center of the room, watching the blonde boy fuss over blankets. It was strange.

"Why?" Zoro asked, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're my friend," Sanji said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He looked down at his hands, then back at Zoro. "This place... it's so boring. And lonely. I have brothers, but they're not really brothers.Actually, they're my real brothers, though.  Not like I think brothers should be. They hurt me, Zoro. They laugh when I fall. They call me names." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "They say I'm a failure. That I shouldn't exist."

Failure. 

Zoro knew that word. He had felt its sting every time Kuina had beaten him, every time he had fallen to the ground with her wooden sword at his throat. But he had never been called a failure by someone who was supposed to love him.

"I don't have any friends," Sanji continued, his voice strengthening. "I never have. But you... you ate my food and you said it was good. You let me touch your sword. You said my dream was good." He looked at him with happy eyes. "That's what friends do, right? I read it in a book."

Zoro didn't know what to say.  He wasn't good with feelings, but he understood loneliness. He understood what it was like to lose the one person who made you feel like you weren't alone.

"I used to have a friend," Zoro said, the words pulled from somewhere deep inside him. He hadn't talked about her since he left Shimotsuki. Hadn't let himself think about her, because thinking about her made the anger and the grief swell up until he thought he might drown. "Her name was Kuina."

"She was stronger than me," Zoro continued, his gaze fixed on the white sword in his hands. "Better with a sword. We promised each other... we promised that one of us would become the world's greatest swordsman." His voice cracked, just slightly. He cleared his throat, forcing the words out. "She died. She fell down the stairs at the dojo. And she was just... gone."

Sanji didn't speak. He simply reached out and placed his small hand on Zoro's arm. "I won't leave you," Sanji said quietly. "I promise, Zoro. I won't leave you."

Zoro looked up, meeting Sanji's gaze.

Sanji broke the moment first, suddenly remembering something. He scrambled to his feet and crossed to a small wooden chest in the corner of the room. He threw it open, revealing a collection of old clothes.

"Here," he said, pulling out a simple dark tunic and trousers. "Put these on. You can't walk around in those clothes—everyone will notice you. These are old. If you wear them, you can move around without attracting attention. Just keep your head down and no one will look twice."

Zoro took the clothes,  began to change without self-consciousness, shedding his thin clothes for the Germa uniform. The tunic was a little big, the trousers a little long, but he rolled the cuffs and belted the tunic with a piece of rope Sanji found in the chest.

He looked... different. Almost like he belonged in this strange, grey world. But his green hair still stuck out like a beacon.

"Your hair," Sanji said, a note of worry creeping into his voice. "It's very... green."

Zoro touched his hair, as if confirming it was still there. "So?"

Sanji said, "My brother Yonji also has green hair. I don't think that will be a problem, but we should change the style a bit."

"I dont let anyone touch my hair"

Zoro looked around the room, his eyes landing on a dusty cap hanging from a hook on the wall. He grabbed it, pulled it low over his head, and tucked as much of his green hair under it as he could.

"Better?" he asked.

Sanji tilted his head, It'll have to do," Sanji conceded. He sat back down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest again. "So. You're looking for a dojo."

Zoro nodded, settling down across from him, the white sword across his lap. "I need to train. I need to get stronger. That's why I left Shimotsuki. To find a master who can teach me."

Sanji's face fell, a shadow of sadness passing over his features. Zoro was going to leave. He had finally found a friend, someone who didn't mock him, who didn't hurt him, and Zoro was going to leave. The thought was like a physical pain, a sharp ache behind his ribs.

But then  an idea ignited in his mind. It was crazy. It was dangerous. It was absolutely perfect.

"There's no dojo here," Sanji said slowly, the idea taking shape as he spoke. "Not like you're thinking. But..." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to an excited whisper. "There are training grounds. For the soldiers. My father believes in constant preparation, constant improvement. There are rooms full of training robots—metal men that fight back. There are simulations, holograms, weapons of all kinds. The soldiers use them every day."

Zoro's eyes widened, interest kindling. "Robots that fight back?"

Sanji nodded eagerly. "They're programmed with thousands of combat styles. They're brutal. Even my brothers train against them. And the best part is, no one watches the training rooms all the time. The soldiers come and go, but at night, they're empty. If I could sneak you in there, if you could blend in with the soldiers during the day, you could train. You could use the robots, the weapons. And if anyone sees you..." He paused, thinking quickly. "If anyone sees you, they'll think you're a test subject. Some new experiment my father is running. They're taught not to question experiments."

Zoro thought about this information for a moment.

"How long can I stay?" he asked.

Sanji's heart leaped. "As long as you want. Indefinitely. We can make it work."

Zoro thought for a long moment.  Finally, he nodded, a decisive movement. "Yes. I can stay here."

Sanji's face split into a brilliant smile, the same smile from the courtyard. He had a friend. His friend was staying. It was the best day of his entire life.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded. 

"You mustn't let my brothers see you," Sanji said, his voice dropping to a fearful whisper. "Or my father. They're very bad, Zoro. They're not like normal people. They don't have... they don't feel things. Not like you and me. If they find you, if they realize you're not supposed to be here..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The possibilities were too horrible to contemplate.

Zoro's hand tightened on his sword. "I defeat them," he said, with the simple confidence of a child.

Sanji shook his head violently, grabbing Zoro's arm. "No. No, Zoro, you don't understand. You can't fight them. They're stronger than you can imagine. They can break bones with their bare hands. They don't get tired. They don't feel pain the way we do." His eye was wide, desperate. "Please. Promise me you won't try to fight them. If they find you, run. Hide. Don't let them catch you."

Zoro looked at the fear in his new friend's face. He didn't understand it—he had never met anyone he couldn't eventually defeat—but he understood that Sanji was scared for him. And Sanji was his friend.

"Okay," Zoro said quietly. "I won't fight them."

Sanji's grip on his arm loosened, relief flooding his features. "Thank you. Thank you, Zoro."

An awkward silence fell between them. Zoro broke it first,  "So. Free accommodation." He gestured at the pile of blankets. "Free food." He looked at Sanji. "Will you come to see me every day?"

Sanji nodded eagerly, "Yes. Yes, every day. I'll bring you food, and I'll tell you about the training schedules, and we can... we can talk." He added the last part almost shyly, as if asking permission.

"Talk about what?" Zoro asked, genuinely curious.

Sanji shrugged. "I don't know. Anything. Everything." He looked around the dusty room, then back at Zoro. "I've never been outside of here. I don't know anything about the real world. You could tell me about where you're from. About the places you've seen. About..." He hesitated, then pressed on. "About Kuina. If you want to."

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll tell you."

Sanji beamed, then settled more comfortably on the floor, tucking his legs under him. "Tell me now. Tell me where you came from."

And so Zoro began to talk. Sanji listened to all of it without interrupting.  When Zoro finally fell silent  "She sounds amazing," Sanji said softly. "I wish I could have met her."

Zoro nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, Sanji stirred.

"I should go," he said reluctantly. "If I'm not in my room, they'll notice. But I'll come back tomorrow. First thing in the morning. I'll bring breakfast."

Zoro nodded. "Okay."

Sanji stood, brushing dust from his clothes. He paused at the door, looking back at Zoro, who was already arranging the blankets into a more comfortable bed.

"Zoro?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."
************************
The next morning, true to his word, Sanji appeared with breakfast. He slipped through the door like a shadow, a covered tray in his hands, his eye bright with excitement.

"I brought porridge," he announced, setting the tray down beside Zoro. "And some bread. And an apple."

Zoro sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked at the tray and  felt his stomach growl with anticipation.

"Thanks," he mumbled, reaching for the bread.

Sanji watched him eat with the same intense focus he'd had the day before, drinking in Zoro's reactions. 

"Is it good?" he asked, unable to contain himself.

Zoro nodded, his mouth full. "Yeah. Really good."

Sanji beamed. "I made it myself."

Zoro paused mid-bite  "You made this?"

"I make all the food I bring you," Sanji said, a little proudly. 

"Tell me about the training rooms," he said.

Sanji's face lit up. He had spent the night planning, thinking through every detail. "There's a schedule," he explained, leaning forward. "The soldiers train in blocks. Morning, afternoon, and evening. But there's a gap between the afternoon session and the evening session—about two hours—when the rooms are empty. That's when you can train."

"And the robots?" Zoro asked. "How do they work?"

"You go into the room, and you pick a level. The robots are stored in the walls. When you activate them, they come out and attack. They're programmed not to kill—they stop when you're defeated—but they don't hold back. My brothers train on the highest levels." He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "They're the only ones who can."

Zoro's eyes gleamed. "Show me."

Sanji led him through passages, a maze of narrow corridors and hidden staircases. 

 Zoro could hear the distant clang of weapons and the grunt of exertion.

"The training wing," Sanji whispered. "We have to be careful."
Sanji pressed his ear against it, listening, then carefully pushed it open.

The room beyond was vast, a cavernous space filled with strange equipment Zoro had never imagined. 

"These are level one," Sanji explained quietly. "They're the weakest. They move slowly, attack predictably. As you go up in levels, the robots get faster, smarter, more aggressive."

Zoro approached one of the robots, reaching out to touch its cold metal arm. It didn't move, didn't react. It was just waiting. "When do they activate?" he asked.

"There's a panel on the wall," Sanji said, pointing. "You set the level and the duration. The robots only activate when the room is in use."

Zoro nodded, already planning his first session. 

"We should go," Sanji said reluctantly. "The next  session will be starting soon. But we can come back during the gap. I'll show you how to work the panel."

**********************

The following days settled into a rhythm.

Every morning Sanji would bring breakfast;
They would eat together, and Sanji would tell Zoro lots of things. Mostly, he did the talking anyway.

In the afternoons, during breaks in training, they would sneak into the simulation room. Sanji would stand guard at the door while Zoro trained, watching in amazement as his friend repeatedly jumped onto the robots. Zoro would fall, get up, fall again, get up again. And slowly, day by day, he was getting better.

After training, they would retreat to the tower room, and Sanji would tend to Zoro's bruises. He applied it carefully to Zoro's battered body, his touch gentle and precise.

"You're crazy," Sanji said one evening, dabbing salve on a particularly nasty bruise on Zoro's ribs. "You know that, right? Crazy."

Zoro winced but didn't pull away. "Have to get stronger."

"You're only six. You have your whole life to get stronger."

"Kuina didn't."

The words hung in the air. Sanji's hands stilled on the bruise, then resumed their gentle work.

"Sorry," Zoro mumbled. "Didn't mean—"

"It's okay," Sanji interrupted softly. "You can talk about her. I don't mind."

But Zoro didn't speak. He didn't want to.

"She's getting worse," Sanji's voice small "..my mother". 

While Sanji continued to dabbing salve   "She doesn't show it, but I can see it. She's... she's leaving."

Zoro didn't know what to say to that. He knew about losing someone. He knew that no words could make it better. So instead, he did what Sanji had done for him. He reached out and placed his hand on Sanji's hand.

"I won't leave you," Zoro said quietly. "I promised."

Sanji looked at him, tears streaming down his face, and nodded. "I know. I know you won't."

********************

Secrets have a way of being discovered.

It happened on a day that had started like any other. Sanji had arrived with breakfast.  Zoro had eaten them with his usual enthusiasm, declaring them the best thing he'd ever tasted, which made Sanji beam with pride. 

They had talked about the training robots—Zoro had finally beaten level three the day before— 

Then Sanji had left to check on his mother, and Zoro had settled in for his morning nap, his body tired from the previous day's training. 

He woke to the sound of shouting.

-----------------

Sanji was returning from his mother's side with joy. -He had finally told her about his friend-

"Well, well," Ichiji's voice rang out, cold and mocking. "If it isn't the failure."

Sanji froze,  He could run—the door was right there—but running would only make it worse. He'd learned that. So he turned, He managed to make his face expressionless.

Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji stood in a loose semicircle, blocking his escape. 

"Where have you been hiding, little brother?" Ichiji asked, his voice dripping with false concern. "We've hardly seen you lately."

Sanji said nothing. He'd learned that too.

Niji pushed off from the wall, circling Sanji like a shark. "I heard a rumor. One of the kitchen staff said they saw you sneaking around passages. Said you were carrying food." His eyes narrowed. "Stealing? "

"I wasn't stealing," Sanji said quietly. The words escaped before he could stop them.

Ichiji's eyebrows rose. "Oh? So you admit you were sneaking around? With food? Then where were you taking it?" He stepped closer, looming over Sanji. "Feeding the rats? Or is there something—someone—you're hiding?"

Sanji's heart hammered against his ribs, but he kept his face blank. "No one. I was just... practicing. Cooking. I didn't want anyone to see."

The three brothers exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. 

Niji stepped forward and shoved Sanji hard. He stumbled, crashing against the wall. "Father should have drowned you at birth. At least then we wouldn't have to look at your pathetic face."

"Leave me alone," Sanji whispered, but they didn't hear him. They never did.

Ichiji's smile widened. "I don't believe you. I think you're hiding something. And I think we're going to find out what." He nodded to his brothers.

----------

In the tower room, Zoro heard something. It was faint, distant, barely audible through the thick stone walls.

Shouting. Laughter. And beneath it, a sound he knew intimately: the sound of someone being hurt.

He was on his feet in an instant, his hand closing around his white sword. He moved to the door. Sanji. It had to be Sanji.

He slipped into  passages, following the sound. The corridors twisted and turned, but he'd memorized them during his weeks in the castle. 

He knew which passages led where, which doors opened onto which parts of Germa. 

He moved silently, his bare feet making no sound on the cold stone.

The sounds grew louder. He could hear voices now. Sounds of fun and laughter. And a chilling, soft sound.  A whimper. Sanji's whimper.

He reached a junction, peering around a corner. And there they were.

Three boys, They resembled Sanji, yet were also very different from him. Sanji's brothers. The ones he had warned.

Sanji was on the ground, his arms wrapped around his head, trying to protect himself from the blows. 
Even as Zoro watched, the green haired brother kicked him hard in the ribs. Sanji's body curled, a pained gasp escaping his lips.

Zoro's vision went red. His hand tightened on his sword, and he started forward—

And then Sanji saw him.

For just a moment, their eyes met. Sanji's visible eye, swollen and bruised, locked onto Zoro's. And in that gaze, Zoro saw a plea.

*No. Hide. Please.*

Zoro froze. Every instinct told him to act, to protect his friend. But Sanji had asked him. Sanji had begged him. And Zoro had promised.

He stepped back into the shadows, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. He pressed himself against the cold stone wall, his knuckles white on his sword, and he watched.

He watched as red haired one crouched down and grabbed a fistful of Sanji's blonde hair, yanking his head up. "What's this?" he taunted. "Tell us. What's your secret"

"Please," Sanji gasped. "Please stop."

"Why?" blue haired one asked, kicking him again. "It's the only thing you're good for. Taking a beating."

Green haired one laughed  "Maybe we should tell Father. Maybe he'll finally lock you up where you belong."

Sanji didn't respond. He just curled tighter, trying to protect his vital organs, trying to survive.

They beat him for what felt like hours.

And Zoro just  watched. He watched, and he listened, and he memorized every face, every word, every blow.  And he promised himself that one day, he would make them pay.

Finally, they grew bored. Tormenting Sanji was fun, but it was also easy, and easy got old. Ichiji gave Sanji one last kick, then straightened.

"Pathetic," he said. "Come on. Let's go find some real entertainment."

Their footsteps echoing down the corridor and fading into silence.

For a long moment, nothing moved. Sanji lay crumpled on the ground, a small, broken heap in the cold stone hallway. 

Zoro jumped out from his hiding place, his sword forgotten, and dropped to his knees beside his friend. 

"Sanji," Zoro whispered, his voice cracking. "Sanji."

Sanji's eye fluttered open. It took a moment to focus, but when it did, it found Zoro's face. And despite everything tried to smile.

"Hi," he breathed.

Zoro couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears came, hot and fierce, streaming down his cheeks. He didn't understand why he was crying—he wasn't the one who'd been beaten—but he couldn't stop. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sanji, carefully, gently, pulling him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," Zoro sobbed into Sanji's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Sanji winced at the pressure on his ribs, but he didn't pull away. Instead, slowly, painfully, he raised his own arms and hugged Zoro back.

"It's okay," he murmured. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Zoro pulled back, his face streaked with tears, his expression fierce. "You're hurt! They hurt you! I should have—I could have—"

"And what?" Sanji asked softly. "Fought them? All three?" He shook his head, then winced at the movement. "You would have lost, Zoro. And then they would have found you. And then... I don't know what they would have done. But it wouldn't have been good."

Zoro wiped his nose with the back of his hand, a childish gesture that somehow made him look even younger. "I don't care. I should have tried."

"No." Sanji's voice was firm despite his injuries. "You did what I asked. You stayed hidden. That's what friends do. They listen."

Zoro looked at him for a long moment, then looked away, his jaw tight. When he spoke again, his voice was ierce "I promise I'll be very strong," he said. "Stronger than them. Stronger than anyone. I'll train every day, every minute, until I can beat them all. And when I'm strong enough, I'll make them pay. For every time they hurt you. He looked back at Sanji, h"I'll always protect you. Always."

Sanji stared at him, his  eyes wide. No one had ever promised to protect him before. But Zoro... Zoro was here. Zoro was strong. Zoro was promising.

"Will you be my knight?" The words came out before he could stop them, soft and shy. He felt foolish immediately. Knights were from stories, from the fairy tales his mother read him. They weren't real. 

 But Zoro didn't mock him. "Every prince has a knight," Zoro said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sanji's heart swelled. A prince. Zoro thought of him as a prince. Not the failure, not the disappointment. 
Worthy of a knight. 
Worthy of protection.

A wild, reckless hope surged through him. If he had a knight, if he had someone who would protect him, then maybe... maybe they didn't have to stay here. Maybe there was a way out.

"Shall we run away together?" Sanji asked, the words tumbling out in a rush. "We could leave. Find somewhere else, without all of this."

Zoro didn't hesitate. "I'll come wherever you go. You are my friend."

"All-Blue," he whispered. "To All-Blue."

Zoro's brow furrowed. "Where is that?"

Sanji shook his head, a small, rueful smile crossing his battered face. "I don't know. No one does. It's a place in a book—a legendary sea where all the fish from all the oceans gather.  It's supposed to be the most beautiful place in the world." His visible eye grew dreamy, "I'm going to find it someday. And when I do, I'm going to open a restaurant there. The most amazing restaurant. People will come from all over the world to eat my food."

"If you open a restaurant," Zoro said slowly, an idea forming, "I'll open a dojo next to it. The greatest swordsmanship dojo in the world. People will come to train with me, and then they'll eat at your restaurant. We'll be... neighbors."

Sanji's eyes widened. "Together?"

Zoro nodded, a small, serious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Together."

------------

Getting Sanji back to the tower room was a slow, painful process.

Zoro laid Sanji on the pile of blankets as gently as he could. Sanji's face was pale beneath the bruises, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Stay here," Zoro commanded. "Don't move. I'll be back."

Sanji grabbed his wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To get bandages. Medicine. Something." Zoro's jaw was set with determination. "You need help."

"The infirmary is guarded," Sanji protested weakly. "They'll see you."

Zoro's eyes hardened. "They won't."

He found the infirmary easily enough. The door was heavy, but not locked. He slipped inside, his heart pounding.

Medical supplies were everywhere. He grabbed what he could carry He stuffed them into his shirt and turned to leave—

And froze.

A soldier stood in the doorway.  The soldier was a big man, with the same blank expression Zoro had seen on everyone in this cursed place. 

"What are you doing here?" the soldier demanded.

Zoro's mind raced.  He thought of Sanji's lessons—keep your head down, don't attract attention, pretend to be what they expect.

He lowered his head, pulled the cap lower over his eyes, and pointed at his foot. He'd scraped it earlier on a loose stone, and the cut was still visible. He hoped it would be enough.

The soldier looked at his foot, then back at his face. For a terrible moment, Zoro thought he would ask more questions. But then the soldier grunted and stepped aside "Get what you need and get out,"

Zoro nodded, not trusting his voice, and hurried past him. He didn't run—running would attract attention—but he walked as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint. He didn't stop until he was safely back in the tower room.

Sanji was exactly where he'd left him, his eye closed, his breathing shallow. But when Zoro entered, he opened his eye and managed a weak smile.

"You came back."

"Of course I came back." Zoro knelt beside him, pulling out the supplies. "I told you I would."

He didn't know much about medicine, but he'd watched the village healer tend to injuries at the dojo. He cleaned Sanji's cuts as best he could,  applied the salve  and carefully wrapped the bandages around Sanji's ribs.

Sanji winced and gasped, but he didn't cry out.

When he was done, he sat back and surveyed his work. It wasn't professional, but it would do.

"Thank you," Sanji said quietly.

Zoro shook his head. "Don't thank me. I should have done more. I should have—"

"You did exactly what I asked." Sanji reached out and took Zoro's hand.

Zoro looked at their joined hands, then back at Sanji's face. The tears threatened again, but he blinked them back. He was a swordsman. Swordsmen didn't cry.

"I won't let them hurt you again," he said fiercely. "I promise. When I'm strong enough—"

"I know." Sanji's smile widened, then tightened as it pulled at his split lip. "I believe you."

**********************

Three days passed before Sanji was well enough to move around again. Zoro barely left his side, bringing him food and water, changing his bandages, telling him stories.

"Zoro," he said. "I want you to meet someone."

Zoro looked up from the sword he'd been polishing. "Who?"

"My mother." Sanji's voice was soft, almost reverent. "I want to introduce you to my mother."

Zoro's eyes widened. "Your mother? But... isn't she sick? Won't it... bother her?"

Sanji shook his head. "She'll be happy to see you. Because you're my friend." 

"Okay," Zoro said. "Let's go."

Sanji's face lit up with that brilliant smile, the one Zoro had come to treasure.

They emerged in a different part of the castle, one Zoro hadn't seen before. The corridors here were quieter.

Sanji stopped before a heavy wooden door and knocked softly.

"Mother? It's me. Sanji."

A weak but warm voice responded from within. "Come in, my love."

Sanji pushed open the door and stepped inside, pulling Zoro gently behind him.

The room was beautiful—filled with soft colors and gentle light. Flowers sat in vases on every surface, their fragrance sweetening the air. A large bed dominated the center of the room, and in it, propped up against pillows, was a woman.

She was thin, so thin, her face pale and drawn with illness. But her eyes were bright with love as she looked at her son. And when her gaze shifted to Zoro, they widened with surprise, then softened with something that looked like joy.

"Sanji," she breathed. "Is this the friend you're talking about?"

Sanji nodded, crossed to her bedside, taking her thin hand in his. "Mother, this is Zoro. My best friend."

Zoro stepped forward, suddenly shy. He didn't know how to act around mothers.

But then Sora smiled at him, and something in his chest loosened.

"Hello, Zoro," she said gently. "Sanji has told me so much about you. "

Sanji's face flushed. "Mother!"

Sora laughed, a soft, musical sound that turned into a cough. When she recovered, she patted the bed beside her. "Come here, both of you. Sit with me. Tell me everything."

They climbed onto the bed, one on each side of her, and they talked.

As the time to leave approached, Sora smiled and turned to Sanji. "My little prince, you've found a knight. Just like in the stories."

Sanji's eyes widened. "You know about that?"

"I know everything, remember?" She squeezed his nose.

 "A knight who will protect you, who will stand by you, who will help you find your All-Blue. That's a rare and precious thing, Sanji. Hold onto him."

Sanji looked at Zoro, and Zoro looked back.

"We will," they said together.

Sora's smile was radiant, despite her pain. "Good," she whispered. "That's good."

As they walked back to the small room,"She's incredible."

Sanji nodded, his eye bright with tears. "She is."

"She's going to die, isn't she?"

The words were blunt, but not cruel. 

Sanji's breath hitched. "Yes. Soon, I think."

Zoro was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and took Sanji's hand.

Sanji looked at their joined hands and he smiled.

******************************

The days in Germa had taken on a strange normalcy. The tower room had become home. His training sessions in the simulation room had progressed to level four, then level five. He could now hold his own against the faster, smarter robots for nearly ten minutes before being overwhelmed.  He ate Sanji's food—each meal better than the last—and he grew stronger.

And every evening, Sanji would come.

Then, on a day that started like any other, Sanji didn't come.
Zoro waited. He told himself it was nothing. Sanji had probably been delayed.  There were a hundred reasons why Sanji might be late.

He waited until the light through the window faded to black. He waited until his stomach growled with hunger, until the tower room felt emptier than it ever had before. He waited until he couldn't wait anymore, and then he curled up on his blankets and tried to sleep.

Sanji would come tomorrow. He always came.

-------

The second day, Zoro didn't wait in the tower room. 

He positioned himself watching the door through which Sanji always appeared. 

He watched and watched, and Sanji never came.

His stomach clenched with a fear he refused to name. Kuina had done this once. 

Kuina was gone. Kuina would never come again.

Zoro shook his head violently, as if he could dislodge the memory. This was different. Sanji was different. 

--------------
On the third day, Zoro stopped waiting.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to find Sanji. He had to know. The not-knowing was worse than anything.

Germa was vast, Everyone was doing something. He tried to listen to their conversations. He was looking for a clue.

Just as he was about to give up and turn back...

"Did you hear about the third prince?"

Zoro froze behind a pillar, his heart hammering.

"Dead. Apparently. The king announced it this morning. Some kind of accident during training."

The world stopped. The sounds of the castle faded to a distant hum.

Dead. Accident. Training.

"No loss, if you ask me," the first voice continued. "Weak little thing. Surprised he lasted this long."

Their sounds faded as they walked away, leaving Zoro alone in the corridor.

He stumbled. His legs wouldn't hold him. He found a corner, a dark alcove behind a pillar, and he collapsed into it. His back hit the cold stone, and he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, his white sword clutched so tightly his knuckles went white.

Dead. Sanji was dead.

"But he still hasn't found All-Blue."

He had promised to protect Sanji, promised to be his knight, and now Sanji was gone. Just like Kuina. Just like everyone.

He didn't know how long he sat there.

What was the point? Sanji was gone. His dream of running away, of opening a dojo next to a restaurant—all gone.

And then he saw her.

A girl, older than him, with pink hair. She moved quickly, furtively, glancing over her shoulder as she walked. In her hands, she carried a bundle—bandages, he realized.

Something stirred in Zoro's chest. A flicker of hope, so faint he almost didn't recognize it. This girl—Sanji had mentioned a sister once. Reiju. The only one who was kind to him.

If Sanji was dead, why would his sister be carrying bandages?

Zoro wiped his face with the back of his hand, pushed himself to his feet, and followed.
-----

Reiju led him through passages Zoro had never seen, deeper into the castle than he'd ever ventured. 

She stopped before a heavy iron door, checked over her shoulder one last time, and slipped inside. Zoro waited a moment, then crept forward, pressing himself against the cold stone beside the door. He could hear voices inside—Reiju's soft, and another voice. A voice he knew.

Sanji's voice.

Zoro's heart leaped into his throat. He peered around the edge of the door, and what he saw made his breath catch.

Sanji was inside a dungeon. He was wearing an iron mask on his head.

He looked smaller than ever, more broken, more afraid.

"Please," Sanji was saying, his voice cracked and desperate. "Please let me out of here. I promise I won't be weak anymore. I'll train harder. I'll be better. Please, Reiju, please..."

Reiju knelt before the cage, her own eyes wet with tears. "I can't, Sanji. You know I can't. Father's orders. If I let you out, he'll—" She stopped, unable to finish.

"Then stay," Sanji begged. "Don't leave me alone. Please. It's so dark. I'm so scared."

Reiju reached through the bars and took his hand, squeezing it. "I'll come as often as I can." She hesitated, then added softly, "I'm sorry, little brother. I'm so sorry."

"Zoro," Sanji whispered, his voice breaking on the name. "He'll be worried about me. He'll think I abandoned him. He'll think—"

"Who's Zoro?" Reiju asked, genuinely curious. "Your mouse? A toy?"

Sanji said nothing, his face closing off. He couldn't risk it. If Reiju knew about Zoro, if anyone knew about Zoro, they would find him. They would hurt him. They might even kill him. Sanji would rather rot in this cage forever than let that happen.

Reiju studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow. I promise." She squeezed his hand one last time, then stood and left, her footsteps echoing in the darkness.

Zoro pressed himself flat against the wall as she passed, holding his breath. She didn't see him. She walked right past, her mind clearly elsewhere.

For a long moment, Zoro didn't move. He just stood there, his heart pounding, his mind racing. Sanji was alive. Sanji was in a dungeon, but he was alive. The relief was so overwhelming it made him dizzy.

Then he heard it a small, frightened voice from inside the dungeon.

"Who's there?" Sanji's voice trembled. "It's so dark. Make some noise. Please. I'm scared."

Zoro stepped through the doorway.

Sanji saw him, and for a moment, his face went slack with disbelief. Then his eye widened, and the tears came anew but these were different. 

Zoro crossed to the cage in three quick strides, dropping to his knees before it. He reached through the bars and grabbed Sanji's hand, holding it tight.

"I'm not a mouse," he said, his voice rough.

Sanji let out a sound—half laugh, half sob—and lunged forward, pressing himself against the bars, his free hand reaching through to grab Zoro's shoulder, his arm, anything he could reach.

"Zoro!" he cried. "Zoro, Zoro, Zoro..."

They held each other through the bars. Zoro felt his own tears falling again, and he didn't care. Let them fall. Let the whole world see. Sanji was alive.

"They said you were dead," Zoro choked out. "They said you died in training. I thought—I thought I was alone again. I thought you were gone like Kuina."

Sanji shook his head frantically. "No, no, I'm here. I'm here. Father locked me up because I'm inadequate. Because I'm a failure. He said I embarrass the family." His voice cracked. "I couldn't bring you food. I couldn't com- " He broke off, sobbing.

Zoro's grip on his hand tightened. "You're alive. That's what matters. You're alive, and I found you."

Sanji looked at him through his tears, a fragile hope dawning on his face. "You came for me."

"Of course I came for you." Zoro's voice was fierce. "I promised. I'm your knight, remember?"

Zoro pulled back and examined the cage.  He grabbed one of the bars and pulled with all his strength, his muscles straining, his face red with effort. The bar didn't budge.

"It's no use," Sanji said softly. "I tried. They're too strong."

Zoro released the bar, breathing hard.

"Then I'll stay here," Zoro said.

Sanji's eye widened. "What?"

Zoro sat down on the cold, damp floor, his back against the bars of the cage. He reached through and found Sanji's hand again, lacing their fingers together.

Sanji stared at him, his face a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "But... but you'll be cold. "

"At least I'll be cold with you."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The dungeon was silent except for the drip of water somewhere in the distance and the soft sound of their breathing. Sanji's hand trembled in Zoro's, but gradually, the trembling eased.

"Zoro?" Sanji whispered into the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Zoro squeezed his hand. "Me too."

************************

Germa was relentlessly attacking the Kingdom of Cozia. The noise echoed deep within the palace.

Sanji, his body weakened and frail, leaned against the wall behind the heavy iron mask on his face.

Just then, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed down the damp corridor of the dungeon. It wasn't a guard; Sanji recognized those steps anywhere.

From the darkness, a green-haired boy, his clothes covered in dust, emerged. Zoro, breathless, approached the iron bars of the cell.

Sanji opened his eyes in surprise. From behind the iron mask, he whispered in a low voice:
"Are you crazy? What if someone had seen you?"

Zoro wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and grinned with his usual nonchalant, defiant attitude:
"No one cares about me right now."

Sanji leaned closer to the bars and gestured outside:
"What's going on outside? What's all this noise?"

"They started another fight," Zoro said, his eyes fixed on the darkness of the corridor. "Everyone's focused there." Then he lowered his voice slightly, a childlike but unwavering seriousness in his eyes: "Reiju and I have a plan."

Some time ago, when Zoro had sneaked into the dungeons again to see Sanji, Reiju had caught him red-handed. Normally, a Vinsmoke would report this to their father, but Reiju had kept the secret.

Sanji swallowed, a mixture of excitement and fear. "What plan?" he asked.

Zoro placed his hands on the ready-to-bend iron bars and whispered, looking into Sanji's eyes:

"We're escaping today... Just the two of us."
"But how?" Sanji whispered.

Reiju appeared from the shadows of the corridor with hurried steps.

"We have very little time," Reiju said, lowering her voice to almost inaudible levels.

Without wasting any time, Reiju gripped the thick iron bars of the cell with her bare hands.

She gritted her teeth and began bending the bars to the sides. A gap wide enough for Sanji to pass through opened.

Zoro immediately reached out and grabbed Sanji's arm, pulling him outside. It was the first time Sanji had stepped outside his cell in months; his legs trembled, but Zoro's hand gave him strength.

"Now let's get rid of this damn thing," Zoro said, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

"Stop, not with a sword!" Reiju interrupted. "This isn't an ordinary lock. A sword blow won't break the mask, it will only damage Sanji's neck. The key is in Judge's room, in the safe. I have to go and get it."

"I'm coming too," Zoro said, stepping forward immediately.

"No, Zoro!" Reiju stopped him, placing his hand on the green-haired boy's shoulder. "You two head straight to the lower harbor, to the cruise ship behind the ammunition ships. I'll get the key and follow."

Zoro and Sanji exchanged glances. They had no other choice. Zoro nodded.

Reiju glanced one last time at Sanji's eyes, visible through his mask. "Run. And whatever you do, don't look back." Then he quickly headed towards the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.

When they finally emerged, Sanji was breathless. The sky was changing color with cannon fire.

"We're here," Zoro said, hiding in the ship's shadow. "Now all we have to do is wait for Reiju."

Just then, heavy footsteps rose from the dark behind them.

It wasn't Reiju's.

Vinsmoke Judge.

"So you finally dared to leave the dungeon," Judge said, glaring at Sanji with absolute hatred and disgust in his voice. Then his eyes shifted to Zoro. "And another parasite with you..."

Zoro drew his sword without hesitation and stepped in front of Sanji. "Don't even think about touching him."

Judge responded to this challenge from an eight-year-old boy with only a laugh. "You amuse me. But I don't have time to waste on you."

Judge simply took a step towards Sanji. Sanji, crushed under his father's shadow, began to cry in fear, "Father... I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was born weak!" he pleaded.

But Judge, as they expected, didn't reach out to grab Sanji. He pulled a bright silver key from his pocket and threw it at Sanji's feet.

"Take this," Judge said coldly. "Take that helpless creature and your parasitic companion and go."

Sanji and Zoro froze in astonishment.

"But you'll promise me one thing... You will never tell anyone outside that you are my son. You will never utter the Vinsmoke surname. No one should know that you came from this family. This is the only stain on my life... You are a failure and a disgrace to the Vinsmoke family."

Judge turned his back and, sweeping his cloak, began to walk into the darkness. For him, Sanji was dead that very second.

Zoro immediately grabbed the key from the ground. With trembling hands, he inserted it into the lock on Sanji's mask and turned it.

The heavy iron mask split in two and fell onto the muddy ground.

Reiju ran breathlessly to the harbor. For the first time, tears welled up in her eyes.

"They're leaving..." Reiju said, realizing that her father had released them. "Sanji! Zoro! Quickly, get on the ship!"

Zoro took Sanji's hand and they began to climb towards the ropes of the Orbit ship. As the ship slowly sailed away, Reiju stood alone at the edge of the harbor.

As the two children drifted further and further away, Reiju, trying to suppress her sobs, shouted with all her might:

"Don't ever look back, Sanji! Never come back here! The sea is so vast... One day, you will surely, surely meet kind-hearted people who will understand you and value you! Go and live, Sanji! Zoro, take care of him!"

***************************
Their life on the Orbit was like paradise.

Zoro mostly helped with deck work. He was small but strong, and a quick learner. He trained or challenged others whenever he had free time.
Sanji, on the other hand, had never been so happy in his life.
He was in a real kitchen. He was cooking. And without fear.
He did every task they gave him.
He washed the dishes, peeled the potatoes, and learned the basics of cooking alongside the cooks.
This was beyond anything he had imagined.

At night, they would lie in their hammocks and talk. About the day's events, about the islands they'd visited.
----------
As the ship sailed along as usual, a ship appeared on the horizon.

"Pirates," Zoro whispered.

Zoro grabbed his sword and ran toward the deck, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. 
He had been trained for this. 
He was ready.

But then he remembered. Sanji. Sanji was in the galley.

He turned and ran the other way, bursting through the galley door just as the first cannonball struck the ship. The vessel lurched violently, sending pots and pans crashing to the floor.

Sanji looked up from the stove, his eye wide with alarm. "Zoro! What happened?"

"Pirates!" Zoro grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the kitchen equipment. "Pirates attacked! Come with me—we have to hide!"

Zoro pulled Sanji into the galley's one of the cupboard, a small space lined. They pressed themselves into the back, behind sacks of flour and barrels of salt, and held their breath.

The sounds of battle continued outside. Footsteps pounded past the cupboard door. Someone screamed, a horrible, cut-off sound that made Sanji flinch. Zoro wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, his other hand tight on his sword.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay. I've got you."

Sanji's heart hammered against his ribs. He pressed his face into Zoro's shoulder, trying to block out the world.

Then the cupboard door opened.

Light flooded in, revealing a massive figure silhouetted in the doorway. A man—no, a giant—with a huge frame, a thick beard. His eyes scanned the cupboard, taking in the sacks and barrels, and for a terrible moment, Sanji thought he would see them, would find them, would—

The giant's gaze passed over their hiding spot. He turned to the stove, where a pot of soup Sanji had been preparing still simmered. He lifted the ladle, tasted the broth, and frowned.

"It's missing spices," he rumbled. He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small bundle of dried herbs, adding a pinch to the pot. "Thyme. That's what it needs."

Something snapped in Sanji.

All the fear,of the past minutes coalesced into a single, outrage. 

"You ruined my food!"

He burst from the cupboard before Zoro could stop him, launching himself at the giant pirate with all the fury his small body could muster. His fists beat against the man's massive chest, completely ineffectual, but Sanji didn't care.

The giant looked down at him with something that might have been surprise. He raised one massive hand and pushed—gently, almost—and Sanji stumbled backward, falling to the floor.

"Don't touch him!" Zoro was there in an instant, placing himself between Sanji and the giant, his sword raised, "Don't you dare touch him!"

The giant looked at them. This tiny, furious blonde boy and this even tinier, equally furious green-haired boy with his sword.

Giant "Did you do this... not bad."

Sanji shouted behind Zoro, "It was perfect until you ruined it!"

Giant easily pushed Zoro aside and lifted Sanji into the air by his collar. "Should I fry your tongue?"

Sanji "You can't do anything. Because I won't die until I find All-Blue!"

Zoro got up from where he fell and attacked the giant "Leave him alone!"

Giant ignored him completely "What do you know about All-Blue, little eggplant?"

But before anyone could speak, the ship lurched violently. "We're sinking!" someone screamed from above.

The giant's eyes widened. He grabbed a large sack from beside the door and turned to leave. But at the door, he paused, looking back at the two children.

"Come on," he said. "If you want to live."

-----------

The ship was breaking apart. Screams echoed from everywhere. Zoro grabbed Sanji's hand. They both stood there, unsure of what to do.

Then, with a sudden jolt, the ship shook again. Both lost their balance and fell to the ground.

Zoro was tumbling towards the water.

Just as he was about to fall off, someone grabbed him.

"I've got you!" Sanji groaned. It was clear he was struggling.

Zoro desperately clung to him, but Sanji was barely holding on. Their hands were slipping.

"Let me go!" Zoro shouted.

"I'll never let go!"

"Idiot, we're both going to die. Let me go!"

Sanji stubbornly shouted, "I won't let go!"

Zoro "You have to live!"

"YOU TOO!!"

Then the ship shook once more, and they both fell into the water. After that, it was darkness, but their hands still clasped together.

*******************
Zoro woke to sunlight and the smell of salt.
For a moment, he was confused, disoriented. Then memory crashed over him.
He sat up abruptly, looking around.
They were on a small hill overlooking the ocean. Beside him, Sanji lay unconscious.

And a few feet away, sitting with his back against a rock, was the giant.

He was studying them with an unreadable expression "You're awake," he rumbled. "Good."

Zoro's hand went automatically to his sword—still there, thank all the gods.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want with us?"

The giant's lips twitched—almost a smile. "Name's Zeff. And I don't want anything with you. I saved your lives. That's all."

Sanji stirred at the sound of voices. His eye fluttered open, found Zoro, then widened as he took in their surroundings.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"A piece of rock" Zeff said. " We're the only survivors."

Zoro "Why did you save us?"

Zeff didn't respond.

Zoro "I'm talking to you. I remember you saving us. You dived in and pulled Sanji out. Why?"

Zeff only said one word "Dreams."

Sanji"What are we going to do now?"

 "We have no choice but to wait until someone sees us."

Zeff reached into the large sack beside him and pulled out one small bag. He tossed it to the boys "These are the only food items we have left. Use them sparingly."

Sanji looked at the large sack and shouted, "Why are you taking the big one?"

"Because I'm three times your size!"

Sanji, even more angered, replied, "There are two of us, and you're alone!"

"That doesn't concern me. You should be grateful I'm even giving you food!"

He leaned his head closer to them threateningly. "Now go to the other side and keep watch. Don't disturb me unless you see a ship."

Sanji picked up the sack from the ground without saying anything and walked away. Zoro followed him. But he looked at Zeff one last time with questioning eyes, because he knew there was no food in the large sack.

Zeff looked back at Zoro in a way that indicated he should be quiet.

Zoro nodded slightly, turned around, and walked away.

----

The days chased each other. They had stopped counting. Their hopes, like their food, were dwindling.

Both were very thin. They had no energy left from hunger.

They were fighting for the last piece of bread in their hands.

They had been so hungry they didn't even have the energy for it. They had argued until they both collapsed, too weak to even lift their heads. But in the middle of the night, Sanji he felt a hand on his jaw. Zoro had forcibly shoved the last bite into Sanji's mouth, his thumb pressing against Sanji’s lips until he swallowed.

Sanji had been crying for a long time because Zoro was going hungry because of him. And once again, it was Zoro who consoled him
 "I'm not that hungry. Besides, you're wasting your energy crying."

Sanji sobbed, "Liar!"

"It was just a morsel of bread. No one would be satisfied."

"If no one would be satisfied, then you should have eaten it," he started sobbing again.

Suddenly, he stood up. "The old man had twice as much food!"

Zoro tried to stop him. "He said not to bother him until we see a ship."

"I don't care!" he shouted. "If he doesn't give it to me, I'll kill him myself."

Zoro tried to stop him, but it was no use.

Sanji, with a knife in his hand, was walking resolutely towards the other side of the cliff.

Zeff said, "I told you not to bother me."

Sanji's eyes fell on the large sack. It was still full. "You still have food. You should give us some."

He started cutting the sack with the knife.

Zoro protested, "Sanji, don't!" Sanji ignored him.

But there was no food in the sack. "Where is it? There's no food here. How are you still alive?" he demanded.

Zoro tried to stop Sanji from approaching Zeff, but again failed.

Sanji stopped. He couldn't move any further. "Your leg?" he asked, surprised. "What happened?"

At that moment, everything dawned on him. "No... No... noooo"

Zoro grabbed him by the waist.

Sanji was screaming, "He gave all the food to us... WHY?"

Zoro struggled to hold back Sanji, who was crying and screaming.

"You knew this? That's why you tried to stop me. Why didn't you tell me?"

He was hitting Zoro's chest with weak fists.

All Zoro could do was hold him tightly until Sanji calmed down.

*********************

Four years had passed since that desperate wait on the cliffs.

The tasks had been memorized since the restaurant opened. Zoro mostly carried things. And Sanji, of course, cooked.

Zoro's role in the kitchen had evolved through necessity. Zeff, in his gruff way, had insisted that everyone on the Baratie learn the basics of food preparation.

So Zoro had learned. He'd grumbled about it—swordsmen didn't need to know how to chop vegetables—but he'd learned. Growing up with two crazy people obsessed with cooking, it was inevitable that I would learn this.

And he was better than most people who worked at Barrati.

On a busy day, Zoro was helping Sanji on Zeff's orders. Zoro glanced over at Sanji's sauce and frowned. Something was off. 

"You did it wrong"

Sanji's hand paused over the pan. His eyes narrowed. "I'm doing it right."

"No." Zoro's voice was flat.

Sanji looked at his sauce, then back at Zoro. The sauce was, in fact, not coming together correctly but admitting that Zoro was right, that the swordsman who only knew cooking because Zeff had forced him to learn, was right about something in Sanji's kitchen...

"I know what I'm doing," Sanji said, his voice tight. "I've been making this sauce since I was ten."

"And you've been making it wrong since you were ten." Zoro's tone was still flat, but there was a hint of something beneath it "Just fix it, Sanji. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Sanji's voice rose. "It's my sauce. My recipe. You think you know more about cooking than me because Zeff made you chop vegetables for a few years?"

"I didn't say that. "

"You know so much," Sanji snapped, grabbing the pan and shoving it toward Zoro, "why don't you do it yourself?"

Zoro looked at the pan, then at Sanji, then back at the pan. His jaw tightened. "Fine."

"Marimo. Eggplant." Zeff's voice was deceptively calm, which meant he was absolutely furious. "Marimo, I called you to the kitchen to speed things up, not slow them down."
Zoro was about to object.
"You can fight outside. But first..." He squeezed their shoulders hard enough to make them both wince. "You're both on waiter duty. Perhaps this way you can put your ego aside."

Sanji opened his mouth to protest, but Zeff's glare silenced him. Zoro didn't bother protesting—he'd learned long ago that arguing with Zeff was useless. They exchanged a glance—*this is your fault* / *no, it's your fault*—and headed out.

-------

The cabin was small but comfortable—two beds, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a tiny bathroom with a shower that barely worked. Unlike the other employees, this place belonged solely to them. It was a gesture from Zeff.

Sanji went straight to the shower, needing the hot water to wash away the frustration of the evening. He stood under the spray for a long time.

He knew Zoro had been right about the sauce. He'd known it even as he was arguing, even as he was shoving the pan toward his friend. The emulsion had been breaking, the texture wrong, and Zoro—Zoro, who didn't even care about cooking—had spotted it immediately and fixed it without effort.

It wasn't that Zoro had been right that bothered him. It was what it represented. Zoro was good at everything. He trained harder than anyone, learned faster than anyone, pushed himself further than anyone.  One day he would become the greatest swordsman in the world, and for that, he would one day leave Baratie. He had to leave.

Although Zoro never mentioned it, Sanji knew that day would come.

And Sanji would be left behind.

When Sanji finally emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel and feeling slightly more human, he found Zoro already in bed.  His face turned toward the wall, his breathing even and regular.

Sanji's heart clenched.

Was Zoro angry? He hadn't seemed angry during their argument—frustrated, maybe, but not angry. But the turned back, the silence... maybe he was angrier than he'd let on.

Sanji dressed slowly, giving Zoro time to turn around, to acknowledge him. But Zoro didn't move. His breathing remained steady, his body still.

Finally, Sanji couldn't take it anymore. He crossed to Zoro's bed and sat on the edge, his voice small in the darkness.

"Are you angry with me?"

Zoro stirred, rolling over to face him. His expression was open, puzzled, genuinely confused by the question.

"Why would I be angry?"

"You were right. In the kitchen today. About the sauce. I made it wrong, and I argued with you instead of admitting it and..." He trailed off, unable to continue. 

Zoro stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so they were sitting side by side.

"it's a very insignificant thing."

Sanji shook his head. "It's not insignificant. I was wrong, and I made it into a fight, and now—"

"Now nothing." Zoro's voice was firm. "We argued. It happens. We've argued before. We'll argue again. It doesn't change anything."

"Then why did you turn your back on me?"

Zoro looked genuinely confused now. "I didn't turn my back on you. I was tired. I lay down. I didn't even know you were in the shower until I heard the water stop."

Sanji blinked.  "You're sure?" Sanji asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

Zoro didn't answer with words. Instead, he shifted closer, then lay back down, pulling Sanji with him until they were both on the narrow bed, side by side. He reached down and found Sanji's hand, lacing their fingers together in the gesture that had become as natural as breathing. They had slept hand in hand ever since their days in dungeon

"I'm not angry," Zoro said quietly. "I could never be angry with you about something like that. You're my best friend, Sanji. You're the only family I have. A stupid argument about sauce isn't going to change that."

Sanji "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I won't say it again."

"Sanji..."

"I didn't say I was sorry because I was sorry. I said I was sorry because I kept talking..."

"Shut up."

"Okay, I'm sorry," he chuckled.

Zoro gently nudged him with his shoulder, "Sleep ."

Sanji responded with a light kick.

********************
Another year had passed.

Sanji stood at the railing, staring out at the endless water.

It was late, the restaurant closed alresdy and everyone asleep. 

He'd been standing here for hours, lost in thought, unable to sleep.

He didn't hear Zeff approach until the old man was right beside him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, eggplant?"

Sanji started, turning to find Zeff leaning against the railing beside him, his massive frame silhouetted against the moonlight. The old man's expression was unreadable, as always.

"Couldn't sleep," Sanji said quietly.

"Zoro?"

"Sleeping."

Zeff nodded, accepting this. He lit a cigarette, the flare of the match briefly illuminating his weathered face. He took a long drag, then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift away on the night breeze.

"So this is about him. Your inability to sleep."

Sanji's eye widened. "How did you know?"

Zeff's lips twitched " You usually come out here when you fight." He paused, considering. "But, though my head didn't hurt today, so I'm guessing you didn't actually fight."

Sanji shook his head. "We didn't fight."

"So what's wrong?"

Sanji looked back at the sea. The words were hard to speak aloud.

"Zoro... he's going to leave."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No." Sanji shook his head. "He's probably not even thinking about it right now. But he will. One day. Maybe in five days, maybe in five years, but he will. He'll leave."

And where does that idea come from?"

Sanji turned to face Zeff fully, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "He wants to be the best in the world, Zeff. The world's greatest swordsman. He can be the best here—the best on this ship, the best on this sea—but he can't be the best in the world. Not if he stays." 

His voice cracked slightly. "He's my best friend. We've been through everything together. We've held each other's hands every night since we were six years old. We've survived things that should have killed us. And I... I need to support him. I know I need to support him. But I don't want him to go."

The words tumbled out, raw and honest, everything he'd been holding inside for months, maybe years. He wiped at his eye angrily, embarrassed by the tears, but they kept coming.

"When I was a pirate captain," Zeff speak , his voice taking on a storytelling quality, "I had a crew. Good men, most of them. We sailed together for years, fought together, bled together. And then one day, some of them wanted to leave. Wanted to start their own ships, their own crews, their own adventures." He paused, taking another drag of his cigarette. "I could have held them back. Could have made them stay. But that would have made me not a captain. So I let them go. And you know what? The ones who were meant to come back, came back. The ones who weren't... well, they found their own paths. And that was right too."

Sanji considered this. "So you're saying I should just... let him go?"

"I'm saying you should support him. Help him become who he's meant to be. And trust that if your bond is as strong as I think it is, it'll survive whatever comes." Zeff's eyes met Sanji's, holding his gaze. "You're not losing him, eggplant. You're just... expanding the definition of what 'together' means."

"Together," he whispered, the word holding all the weight of eight years of friendship.

Zeff nodded, understanding. "Together doesn't always mean in the same place, eggplant. Sometimes it means carrying each other in your hearts, no matter how far apart you are."

They stood in silence for a long moment, watching the sea. Then Sanji spoke again, his voice stronger now.

"He's going to be amazing, you know. The greatest swordsman who ever lived."

"I know."

***********************************

The years had a way of etching themselves into the fabric of who they were, each day adding another layer to the foundation they had built together. At sixteen, Zoro and Sanji had become something more than friends, more than brothers—they were an inevitability, a constant in each other's lives that neither questioned nor examined. They simply were.

Zeff noticed this the moment he first saw them. Now, six years later, that bond had only grown stronger.

But Zeff had lived long enough, seen enough, to recognize when something shifted. And something had shifted. Especially in Sanji.

-------------------

It was subtle at first. 

Then it became less subtle.

Zeff watched from the kitchen doorway as Sanji stood at the stove, ostensibly working on a food, but his gaze was fixed on Zoro across the room.

Zoro was helping with prep work, his back to Sanji, completely oblivious to the intensity of the stare boring into him. Sanji's expression was soft, unguarded, full of something that looked a lot like wonder.

The moment stretched. Zoro turned, reaching for a knife, and Sanji's gaze dropped instantly, his face coloring, his attention snapping back to his food with forced concentration.

Zeff sighed inwardly.

Then there was the flirting.

Sanji had always been charming with female customers part of the persona he'd developed over the years. But lately, it had become something else. Something desperate. . He pursued woman showering them with compliments.

And yet, Zeff noticed, he never looked at any of them the way he looked at Zoro. Not once.

"Ah, Sanji," Zeff muttered to himself one evening, watching the blonde boy watch Zoro from across the dining room. "Little eggplant. You've gone and done it now."

-----------------

The sobbing woke Zeff from a light sleep.

It was late the sound carried through the quiet ship with eerie clarity. Zeff lay still for a moment, listening, identifying the source. It was coming from Sanji's spot.

Zeff rose quietly and made his way through the darkened corridors. He found Sanji exactly where he expected—sitting with his back against the railing, knees drawn to his chest, staring out at the moonlit sea. A cigarette dangled from his fingers.

The smoking was new. Sanji had started a few months ago, trying to look older, more mature, more like the image he was building for himself. Zoro hated it. They fought about it constantly—Zoro snatching cigarettes from Sanji's hand, Sanji yelling about being old enough to make his own choices, Zeff caught in the middle trying to keep the peace.

"Little eggplant," Zeff called softly, not wanting to startle him.

Sanji looked up, and Zeff's heart clenched at what he saw. The boy's face was ravaged—eyes red and swollen, cheeks streaked with tears,  He looked younger than his sixteen years,

"Zeff," Sanji choked out, and then the sobbing started again, louder now, uncontrollable. "Zeff, what am I going to do? It hurts so much. It hurts so much I can't breathe."

Zeff lowered himself onto the deck beside him, his old bones protesting the movement. He didn't speak at first, just sat there, letting Sanji cry.

When the sobbing began to ease, Zeff lit his own cigarette and stared out at the sea. "Love," he said quietly, "especially that first love at your age, is very painful. But you'll heal with time."

Sanji shook his head violently. "I don't want to heal. I don't want to get over it. I just..." He pressed his fist to his chest, over his heart. "It hurts so much. Do you understand? I messed everything up. Everything."

"You didn't mess anything up, eggplant."

"Yes, I did!" Sanji's voice cracked with desperation. "I betrayed my friendship with Zoro. I took something pure and good and I... I made it dirty. I made it wrong.  I ruined it by feeling something I shouldn't feel"

Zeff was quiet for a long moment, considering his words carefully. "Do you think he'll distance himself from you if he finds out?"

Sanji's face crumpled. "He won't hate me. That's not who he is. But I can't look him in the face anymore. Every time I see him, I feel like I'm drowning. Like all the air leaves the world and there's nothing left but him and this... this thing inside me that won't stop."

"No matter what happens," Zeff speak, "you won't be separated. You are everything to each other. You always have been. You're not just friends, Sanji—you're soulmates. And soulmates find a way. They always do."

"I don't know how this happened," he said finally, his voice small. "I didn't even realize it. If I had known beforehand, if I had seen it coming, maybe I could have stopped myself. Maybe I could have kept things the way they were."

Zeff shook his head slowly. "You couldn't have stopped anything, eggplant. The heart wants what it wants. You can't reason with it, can't negotiate, can't convince it to feel something else. It just... wants. And you have to live with that wanting, whether it's returned or not."

Sanji wiped at his eye, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "He can't find out about this. He can never know."

"Sanji..."

"No." The word was firm, desperate. "I'll get through this. I'll bury it so deep he'll never see it. We'll continue being best friends, and I'll learn to be okay with that. I have to be okay with that. Because losing him completely—that would kill me. That would actually kill me."

Zeff looked at the boy beside him. He wanted  to tell Sanji that burying feelings never worked, that they always found a way to surface.

But he also understood the terror behind those words. The fear of losing something so precious that the thought of it was unbearable.

"Alright, eggplant," Zeff said quietly. "Alright. But you're not alone in this. You understand? You've got me.  And no matter what happens, you've got Zoro. Even if he never knows, even if things stay exactly as they are—you've got him. That doesn't change."

Sanji nodded, unable to speak. He leaned against Zeff's massive shoulder, drawing comfort from the old man. They sat together in the darkness, watching the sea, until Sanji's breathing evened out and his tears stopped.

"Zeff?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think... do you think there's someone out there for everyone? Someone meant just for them?"

Zeff considered the question. "I think there are people who fit together. People whose souls recognize each other, no matter what form they take. I think you and Zoro fit like that. Whether that's romantic or friendship or something else entirely—that doesn't matter. What matters is that you fit. You belong together. The universe doesn't make mistakes like that."

Sanji was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. " I can't lose him."

******************************
The kitchen had never felt so suffocating.

Sanji stood at his station, knife moving in a rhythm he'd performed ten thousand times before, but his mind was elsewhere.  The onion beneath his blade was reduced to increasingly fine dice, then to mince, then to something approaching puree, and still he kept chopping.

In his head, a loop played on repeat. Her name was Mina. She was beautiful. She was charming. She was exactly the kind of woman Sanji would have pursued with his full repertoire of compliments and grand gestures.

And she was completely, utterly, infuriatingly oblivious to him.

Because she only had eyes for Zoro.

Sanji's knife came down harder, splitting an onion quarter that had long since ceased to need splitting.

"Chef Sanji," one of the younger assistants ventured, "that onion is... it's done. It's been done for a while."

Sanji didn't respond. He just kept chopping.

In his mind, he saw it again: the way Mina had looked at Zoro when he'd brought her drink. The way she'd touched his arm, letting her fingers linger. The way Zoro had just stood there, his expression unchanged, utterly oblivious to what was happening right in front of him.

That was the worst part. Zoro didn't even notice.

He never noticed.

Most of the time, Sanji found this hilarious. 

Today, it wasn't funny. Today, it was excruciating.

Because Mina wasn't giving up. She'd been here for three hours now, nursing the same drink, finding excuse after excuse to talk to Zoro. And Zoro, the absolute idiot, was just... standing there. Letting her. Not encouraging, but not discouraging either. Just existing in his dense, oblivious bubble while Sanji died by inches in the kitchen.

*You have no right to be jealous*, Sanji told himself fiercely. *You have no claim on him. He's your friend. Your best friend. Nothing more.*

It didn't help.

"I need to smoke," he announced abruptly, setting down his knife. He was out the door before anyone could respond, tearing off his apron as he went.

---

His private spot was empty, as always. He slumped against the railing, lit a cigarette with trembling hands, and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs. The familiar burn helped, just slightly, grounding him in his body.

"You're completely addicted to nicotine."

Sanji flinched so hard he nearly dropped his cigarette into the sea. He whirled around to find Zoro standing behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" Sanji demanded, his heart pounding. "This is my spot. My private spot. No one comes here."

"I have a headache." Zoro's voice was flat. "The girl won't stop talking. I needed quiet."

Sanji stared at him, a complicated mess of emotions churning in his chest.
"You left her alone?" Sanji heard himself say, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. "That's really rude. You're incorrigible. You can't just abandon a lady like that."

Zoro shrugged, moving to lean against the railing beside him. "She talked too much. About her hair, her dress, her family's money. I don't care about any of that."

"You don't care about anything."

"I care about some things."

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Sanji took another drag of his cigarette, staring straight ahead, determined not to look at Zoro.

"I never understood what she saw in you anyway," Sanji muttered.

Zoro was quiet for a beat.  "So you finally spilled the beans."

Sanji's heart stopped. His head whipped around, his eye wide with sudden terror. "What?"

"You're jealous," Zoro said. "Aren't you?"

The world tilted. Sanji's mouth went dry. He stared at Zoro, frozen, unable to speak, unable to breathe.

Zoro knew. Somehow, impossibly, Zoro knew. And now everything would change, everything would shatter, everything—

"The fact that that girl chose me instead of you." Zoro's voice was matter-of-fact, completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding inside Sanji's head. "It's killing you with jealousy, isn't it?"

The words registered slowly, like water seeping through cracks. 

*Chose me instead of you.*

Zoro thought... Zoro thought Sanji was jealous because a woman had preferred him over Sanji. Zoro thought this was about ego.

Sanji almost laughed. Almost cried. Did both.

"Zoro..." he managed, his voice strangled.

Zoro misinterpreted the tone completely. A small smile tugged at his lips—that rare, genuine expression that always made Sanji's heart do strange things.

"What? Can't I be liked? Or can't someone like me? Can't I take someone to secret places every night and kiss them?"

The words hit Sanji like physical blows. *Secret places. Every night. Kiss them.* Images flooded his mind—Zoro with Mina, Zoro's hands in her curly blue hair, Zoro's lips on hers—and he felt something inside him crack.

"You can do whatever you want," he heard himself say. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

He couldn't be here. Couldn't have this conversation. Couldn't watch Zoro stand there, so close and so far away, talking about kissing other people like it was nothing, like it didn't matter, like the very concept didn't tear Sanji apart from the inside.

He flicked his finished cigarette into the sea, watching the tiny ember disappear into the darkness. Then he turned and walked away, before Zoro could see the tears he was fighting so hard to contain.

--------------

"Sanji."

Zoro's voice followed him, but Sanji didn't stop. He couldn't stop. If he stopped, he'd break, and he couldn't break here, couldn't break in front of Zoro, couldn't let Zoro see what his careless words had done.

He made it to their cabin, somehow. Made it inside, closed the door, leaned against it. And then the tears came, as he pressed his fist to his mouth to muffle the sounds he couldn't control.

*You can do whatever you want.*

The worst part was, he meant it. Of course he meant it. Zoro wasn't his. Zoro had never been his, not in the way Sanji wanted. Zoro was his best friend, his brother, his other half—but he wasn't Sanji's to claim, wasn't Sanji's to keep, wasn't Sanji's to love.

Zoro could do whatever he wanted. Could kiss whoever he wanted. Could fall in love with someone else, build a life with someone else, leave Sanji behind for someone else.

And Sanji would have to watch. Would have to smile and congratulate him .

---

He didn't hear Zoro enter.

One moment he was alone in the darkness, crying into his own arms; the next, Zoro was there, crouching in front of him, his expression confused and worried and so painfully, beautifully Zoro.

"Sanji?" Zoro's voice was soft, uncertain. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Sanji shook his head, unable to speak, unable to explain, unable to do anything but cry harder.

Zoro hesitated for only a moment. Then he sat down, right there on the floor, and pulled Sanji into his arms. Held him, the way he'd held him a thousand times before.

Sanji pressed his face into Zoro's shoulder and cried. Cried for everything he couldn't say, everything he couldn't have, everything he'd lost before he ever had it.

Finally, when the tears had subsided to occasional shuddering breaths, Sanji pulled back slightly. He didn't meet Zoro's eyes "Sorry," he whispered, his voice wrecked. "I don't know what came over me."

Zoro's hand came up, cupping Sanji's face,his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. 

"You don't have to apologize," Zoro said quietly. " You're allowed to fall apart. I'll always be here to catch you."

"Why?" Sanji whispered. "Why do you stay? Why do you always stay?"

Zoro's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. 

"Because you're my everything," he said simply. "You always have been."

The words, so innocent, so unaware of their true weight, hit Sanji like a wave. He closed his eye, let them wash over him.

***********************
The day had started like any other. And it continued in the same way.

Sanji had found someone to flirt with. Again.

Zoro had watched it unfold with the same detached interest he watched all of Sanji's flirtations. It was just what Sanji did. It was part of who he was. It meant nothing.

Except—something was different this time.

Sanji wasn't rushing. He wasn't performing. He was taking his time, letting the conversation flow naturally, laughing at her jokes instead of just telling his own. This wasn't his usual hunting technique. This was something else.

Zoro's chest did something strange. A tightness, a pressure, a feeling he couldn't name. 

Sanji would take her to his special place. He would say lots of nice things, and if she was lucky, she would even get a kiss. Always the same routine.

And Zoro watched Sanji and the girl leave.

Hours passed. And still, Sanji was with her.

Finally, Zoro saw her pass through the dining room, and something was wrong. Her face was downcast, her shoulders slumped. This wasn't right. Girls who left Sanji's company were radiant.  This girl looked like she'd lost something precious.

-----------

Zoro approached quietly, not wanting to startle him. He stood at the entrance to the alcove, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light.

Sanji was there, leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers. His shoulders were slumped, his posture defeated. He wasn't looking at the sea—he was looking at nothing, his eyes fixed on some middle distance.

"You were gone the whole time."

Sanji didn't turn. Just took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"I got permission from Zeff."

His voice was flat. Wrong.

Zoro moved closer, stopping just behind him. "Did things not go well?"

Sanji's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "That's none of your business."

The words hit Zoro like a physical blow. Cold. Dismissive. A door slamming shut in his face.

He was right. Of course he was right. Sanji's romantic life wasn't his business. They were friends—best friends—but friends didn't get to ask these questions.

Zoro's voice came out harsher than he intended. "You're right. What do I care?"

Sanji flinched. For a moment, something flickered in his posture "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean?" Zoro's voice was rough, "You've been acting strange for months. Pushing me away. Pulling back. And now you disappear for hours with some girl and You're acting ridiculously.  So yeah, I'm asking. What did you mean?"

Sanji's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Finally, he groaned—a sound of pure frustration—and turned away.

"Never mind. Just... never mind."

Zoro stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

"I can't ." His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "I know you, Sanji. Something's wrong. Something's been wrong for a while. And I need to know what it is so I can fix it."

Sanji laughed—a broken, bitter sound. "You don't know me at all."

Zoro's vision went red. Not with anger "After all these years," he said, his voice shaking, "do you dare say that to me? After everything we've been through? I know you, Sanji. I know you better than anyone in this world."

Zoro took a breath, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. "I know that you always tie your left shoe first because you’re afraid if you start with the right, you'll trip on the stairs," Zoro started, his eyes locked on Sanji’s. " I know that you memorize the favorite food of every regular customer not because it’s your job, but because you think if you feed them perfectly, they’ll stay. I know that when you're really happy, you hum while you cook—not a song, just a tuneless little sound that you don't even notice making.  I know that you prefer the taste of slightly burnt bread because it’s the first thing Zeff ever fed us. I know that when you’re truly stressed, you tap your pinky finger against the lighter three times before you flick it.  I know that you secretly love the terrible romance novels  even though you'd never admit it. "

Sanji had gone still, his cigarette frozen halfway to his lips.

"I know that you pretend to be confident, but underneath it all, you're still that scared child in a dungeon, desperate for someone to hold your hand in the dark. I know the exact pitch of your breath when you’re having a nightmare. I know that you write letters to your mother in a notebook you keep under your mattress, even though she's gone."

Sanji was trembling now. The cigarette fell from his fingers.

Zoro's voice softened, the intensity giving way to something gentler.

"I know that when you're truly happy—really, truly happy—your whole face lights up, not just your eye. Your smile reaches places most people don't even have. I know that you're kind to everyone, even when they don't deserve it, because you remember what it was like to have no one be kind to you. And I know... I know that for the last six months, you’ve stopped looking me in the eye when we eat dinner."

He reached out, slowly, giving Sanji time to pull away. When he didn't, Zoro's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"So you can say anything you want, Sanji. You can push me away, shut me out, tell me to mind my own business. But you can't say I don't know you. You can't take that from me. Not after years. Not after everything. You've started pushing me away, and I need to understand why. I need to fix it. You're my friend. My only friend. My family."

The tears Sanji had been fighting were no longer obeying him.  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. 
Then Sanji's voice came, broken and raw.

"You don't know anything."

Zoro's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Sanji—"

"You don't know that I've ruined everything." The words tumbled out like water. "You don't know that I've betrayed you so badly I can't even look you in the face anymore. You don't know that I don't want to be your friend anymore."

Zoro went still. The words hit him like blows.

"I don't understand." His voice was barely a whisper. "Have you started to hate me? What did I do? Tell me what I did, and I'll fix it. I'll do anything—"

"I wish I hated you." Sanji's laugh was broken, desperate. "Everything would be so much easier if I hated you. But it's worse. It's so much worse."

He was sobbing now, his whole body shaking with the force of it.

"I betrayed our friendship. I betrayed our past. I took something pure and good and I made it dirty. I made it wrong." He pressed his fists to his eyes, trying to stop the tears, failing completely. "You're my best friend. You're my knight. You're the only person in the world who ever loved me without wanting something in return. And I—I ruined it. I ruined everything."

Zoro's mind was racing, trying to catch up, trying to understand. "Sanji, whatever it is—whatever you think you did—it can't be that bad. Nothing could—"

"I fell in love with you."

The words hung in the air between them.

Sanji's sobs redoubled. He turned away, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together. "There. Now you know. Now you understand why I can't look at you, why I push you away, why every moment with you feels like dying. I fell in love with you, and I've destroyed everything we had."

Zoro stared at him, shock rooting him to the spot.

"I thought..." He struggled to find words. "I thought, you liked girls."

It was stupid. It was the wrong thing to say. But it was all he could grasp in the chaos of his thoughts.

Sanji laughed bitterly, not turning around. "I do like girls. I like them a lot. But I'm in love with you. Only you. You're the exception to every rule, the one thing that doesn't fit. And I hate it. I hate that you're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep. I hate that your stupid face is everywhere—in the kitchen, restaurant, in every corner of this ship. I hate that when I cook, I'm always trying to impress you, always waiting for your reaction, always wanting to see that little smile you get when something's really good."

His voice cracked.

"And I hate that I can't have you. That I'll never have you. That I've ruined the best thing in my life by wanting something I can never have."

He finally turned, his face ravaged by tears, his eye red and swollen. "So go ahead. Say something. Tell me it's okay, that you understand, that we can still be friends. Lie to me, Zoro. Make it hurt less."

Zoro didn't speak. He couldn't. His mind was still reeling, still processing, still trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.

But his body knew what to do.

He took a step forward. Then another. giving Sanji time to do whatever he needed to do.

Sanji watched him come, his expression caught between hope and terror. "What are you doing? Don't—don't come closer. Just go away. Please."

Zoro kept moving. When he was close enough to touch, he reached out—his hand hesitating for just a moment before he firmly, gently, grasped Sanji's.

Sanji flinched, trying to pull away. "Let go. Zoro, let go. Just—just go away and leave me alone. I can't—I can't do this—"

"If you had sent me a little sign..." Zoro's voice was rough, uncertain.

Sanji froze. "What?"

"If you had given me any indication. Any hint. Any tiny clue that this was how you felt." Zoro's thumb traced small circles on the back of Sanji's hand. "I would have said the same thing."

Sanji stared at him, his mind clearly refusing to process the words. "What? What are you talking about? You would have said—what would you have said?"

Zoro met his eyes—that honest, terrifyingly vulnerable gaze that stripped away every lie, every defense, every wall they'd ever built.

"I would have said the same thing," he repeated. "That I'm in love with you too."

The world stopped.

Sanji's breath hitched, a small, broken sound. "Zoro... you... you don't mean..."

"I think I've loved you for a long time" he said quietly. He swallowed hard. "Every time I fought to protect you. Every time I stayed by your side. Every time I watched you flirt with someone else and felt that ache in my chest—that was love. I just didn't have a name for it."

Sanji was shaking his head, disbelief warring with hope. "But—but you're always so—you never—"

"I'm an idiot," Zoro admitted. "I'm good at fighting and terrible at feelings. It took you screaming at me to realize what should have been obvious for years." He squeezed Sanji's hand. 

Sanji's tears had started again, but these were different "Zoro..."

"Can I kiss you?"

Sanji's answer came without thought, without hesitation. "Yes."

He closed his eye, waiting his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
waiting,waiting... The kiss didn't come.

He opened his eye, confused.

Zoro looking at him with an expression of pure, uncharacteristic embarrassment.

"I've never kissed anyone before." The words came out gruff, almost defensive. "So it might be bad."

Sanji stared at him for half a second. he start laughed. A real laugh.

"You idiot," he whispered. "My beautiful, perfect idiot."

And then he closed the distance between them and kissed him.

---------------------

The kiss was soft at first. 

Sanji's hand came up to cup Zoro's jaw, feeling the rough texture of his skin, the slight stubble that was just beginning to appear. Zoro's arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, eliminating the last inches of space between them.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping slightly, Sanji leaned his forehead against Zoro's.

Zoro hesitantly asked, "How was it?"

Terrible.

Clumsy.

Perfect.

Sanji replied with a smile, "The best I've ever had."

Amble - Little White Chapel